


Marked

by rapunzell



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapunzell/pseuds/rapunzell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU where the color of hair one's soulmate possesses shows up at birth as a marking on their body. Rumple has difficulty finding the right brunette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for emderavin on tumblr.  
> The prompt: Rumple had always been brave.  
> I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it!!

For as long as the sun has risen in the east, the people of the Enchanted Forest had a connection to their soulmate from birth. A single streak on the body, appearing as if painted on, indicated the color of hair one’s soulmate possessed. Sometimes it took five years and sometimes it took thirty, but the people of the Enchanted Forest always found their soulmates. Some were lucky enough to find their True Love, indicated by their markings appearing on the same part of their bodies.

The magic made finding your soulmate easy if they happened to have a rare hair color, such as red, but Rumplestiltskin was born with a brown streak across the back of his neck. He often had his aunts describe the color to him, for he could not see it and he needed to know the exact shade of brown his soulmate had. Nearly everyone in his village had brown hair.

He never had much time for courting, but when the father of his neighbor approached him about marrying his daughter, Rumple agreed. She did have brown curls, after all.

The wedding was a trying ordeal, but in the dark of their cottage on their wedding night Rumple spotted a dark streak on Milah’s left hip. He hadn’t seen a mirror in a while but it very well could be his shade of hair. They could make it work. She could be the one.

In the early days he did everything he could to make the marriage work. He worked hard at spinning to provide for her, then when he finished with that for the day he’d eat with her, making small quips in attempt to get her to smile. He never witnessed love before, but her eyes softened and her slight chuckles came often enough that Rumple finally decided he found his soulmate.

Then Rumple came home a coward, disgracing their family because he would rather be a father to his son than die in battle. Her lips seemed permanently turned upside down. Every time Rumple entered the room, she’d square her shoulders, preparing for battle. Or preparing to point out every error he made on that particular day.

When he saw her brown curls, pinned behind her head for convenience, he stopped seeing hope. He lost hope in their marriage, hope that she was his soulmate, hope that he’d ever find a soulmate now. He’d just live out the rest of his miserable life with his son, a wife who can’t stand the sight of him, and a curious brunette streak on his neck.

He resigned himself to this fate, a monotonous cycle of feeling invisible to his wife when one day he arrived to see her no longer home.

“Well she probably just...lost track of time,” he told his son, “grab your cloak. We’ll find her.”

And sure enough they did find her. Rolling dice and drinking with a group of pirates, a shawl of nice fabric draped over her shabby dress to conceal her low standing on the social ladder of their village. “Milah,” he gripped onto his walking stick for support, “it’s time to go.”

“Good, so go.” She poured a bottle of something into a smaller cup.

“Who’s this?” Asked the pirate sitting across from her. Rumple squinted at the man- he had dark hair. About as dark as the streak on Milah’s hip.

“It’s no one,” Milah sneered, “it’s just my husband.”

Rumple gripped onto his walking stick with both hands until he was sure he’d get splinters in his palms from his tight grip. Baelfire was waiting outside in the crisp air. They needed to bring him home.

“Well he’s a tad taller than you described,” the pirate joked, arousing laughter from the group around him, including Milah.

“Please, you have responsibilities,” he reminded her, glad Baelfire wasn’t here to see his mother right now.

“You mean like being a man? And fighting in the Ogre Wars? Other wives became honored widows while I became latched to the village coward. I need a break.” She poured another drink, “Run home, Rumple. It’s what you’re good at.”

“Mama?” Came a small voice from behind him.

“Bae,” Rumple turned around, “you were supposed to wait outside, son.” A moment later Milah was grabbing Bae by the shoulders, leading him out of the tavern and towards their house without waiting for Rumple to catch up. He sighed. For a moment there he feared she’d never come home again. And then what would he tell Bae?

He should have seen it coming, but just weeks later she did leave forever, leaving him to tell Baelfire that she’d died. Torn between duty and desire, she chose desire. And who wouldn’t, when their other option was him? The village coward.

He nearly forgot about the marking on his neck until years later. When he watched his son slip through his grip and into a realm where he’d be rendered powerless, his hand rubbed at his neck, going over the small indent of the marking. He failed Bae and he failed some poor woman who he would never meet because he’d go to the Land Without Magic as soon as he could.

Over two centuries passed, though, and he still remained in the Enchanted Forest. Even though he no longer had a wife, he never paid brunette women any attention. He simply didn’t have the time to search for his soulmate like some delusional teenager. He exchanged his coarse tunics for leathers and silks, transforming himself into a Dark One who demanded to be feared.

He found himself in a tower with a miller’s daughter who claimed she could spin straw into gold. He sat down at the spinning wheel in the center of the dimly lit room. “And what a marvelous coincidence that spinning straw into gold just so happens to be something that I like to do. It’s almost like,” the room was lit by a measly fire in the fireplace, but he had noticed her brown hair. “Like fate.” He finished, busying himself with the straw in front of him.

“No one can spin straw into anything. And no one can make-”

“Oh, well would you look at that!” He stopped the wheel, pulling up a thin strand of gold.

Eyes lighting up, she reached for it. “You want to help me?”

“I want you to help me.” He stood up, “And you will. Because the future is my gift. Well, in a manner of speaking.”  
“What could you possibly get from me?”

He snapped his fingers. “Funny you should ask. Can you read?” He unrolled the contract demanding her firstborn in return for the transformation of the straw into gold. He couldn’t be sure she was his soulmate, but he was positive that her daughter would cast the curse he needed to get to Baelfire.

But she didn’t just want the gold. She wanted to make the gold herself. So he gladly amended the contract for her. She grabbed the quill from him to sign it, and he noticed the brown streak across her wrist. She couldn’t see his, but that didn’t stop her from spinning around and catching his lips in a kiss hours later while he sat behind her at the spinning wheel.

So they made another amendment to the contract: she owed him his own child. He allowed himself to believe that maybe, after all these centuries, he’d finally found his soulmate. But she left him, too. It made sense- he was somehow the most powerful wizard and greatest coward all in one. Nobody could ever love him.

***

Years passed with few advances in his plan to cast the Dark Curse. He gave up on the nagging hope he felt at the back of his mind every time he saw a brunette woman. Maybe he was his own soulmate. Breaking his own rule, he pulled out a mirror, using it to see the streak on the back of his neck. But no, the mark on his skin was definitely darker than his own hair, with a reddish tint to it. Sighing, he put the mirror away. He’d never find his soulmate, and the sooner he accepted that, the better.

Just then he was alerted to the sound of his name. Kingdoms away, the Lady of Avonlea was convincing her father to call on him. Sure enough, the next day a dove arrived at the Dark Castle with a note promising gold in exchange for help with the Ogre Wars. They were desperate, but not desperate enough. He waited until they truly lost all hope before showing up to deal with Sir Maurice with a price already in mind. “My price is her,” he pointed to the daughter, noticing but choosing to ignore her brown curls. Just from one look he could already tell she wasn’t as malice-filled as the only two women ever to show interest in him.

When they got back to his castle, he realized he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. So he put her in the dungeon for the first week. Her brown curls out of sight and out of mind so that he wouldn’t give himself any ideas. But then Robin Hood came along and she saw who he truly was, and Rumple decided to move her into her own room.

He brought her to the doorway of the room, backing up to leave.

“Why?” Her voice stopped him.

“Pardon?”

“First a library and now this?” She turned to face him, her muddied yellow skirts flowing around her as she did so. He decided not to inform her of the stocked wardrobe in there. She’d find it on her own time.

He shrugged, remembering how it felt when she flung her arms around him in the middle of the woods like it was the most natural thing. “I just needed to clear space in the dungeon in case other felons came.”

She smiled. “I could hug you right now.”

“And I could turn you into a toad.” She actually giggled at that on her way into the room for the first time.

He should have left her in the dungeon though, because the next day he found himself noticing her brown hair again. She bounced into his workroom with a book from her new library and a dress the shade of her eyes and he nearly spilled the potion he was making on himself.

“Good afternoon,” she smiled, laying back on the chaise and cracking open her book.

Rumple silently nodded in lieu of a verbal greeting. She became absorbed with her novel rather quickly and he found himself glancing up from his work every few minutes to observe her.

Out of curiosity he let eyes stray to her wrists- the majority of people were born with their soulmate markings on their wrists. But both her wrists were bare- and so was every other visible inch of her skin. Perhaps her mark was hidden under her skirts like Milah’s. Like some virginal bride his cheeks warmed at that thought. She turned a page in her book, biting her lip in concentration as she read. The potion he’d been working on was mostly forgotten at this point. As she turned the page again her eyes wandered from her book over to him and he busied himself once again with the ingredients in front of him.

He wasn’t a total monster. Maybe one day he would let her go and give her the chance he never had to find her own soulmate.

Her visits to his workroom became a daily thing, a new book always in her hand. Sometimes she let him work in silence but other times she’d talk his ear off. He pretended to be annoyed but she did lighten the atmosphere with her presence (quite literally since the curtain incident).   

On this particular day he was hunched over a book at his worktable. If finding True Love was hard, bottling it would be harder. As if on cue, his magic alerted him to Prince Charming barging through his front doors without knocking. Rumple stood, his chair screeching against the wooden floor. Belle’s head shot up from her book.

“I’ll be right back,” he said before she could ask what was going on, transporting himself to the prince. The prince, desperate to get to his True Love, gave Rumple his cloak without a second thought.

As the prince left, he heard Belle tiptoe down the last few steps. “Is he gone?”

Rumple whirled around, trying to think back to the conversation he’d just had. “How long have you been there?”

She walked over to the round table Prince Charming’s cloak now lay on, lifting herself up to sit on it. “Long enough to hear you scare the prince about Snow’s heart going dark.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I can see the future. They’ll both be fine.”

Belle nodded. She ran her hand over the velvety fabric next to her. “So why did you want his cloak?”

“It’s not his cloak I want,” Rumple plucked a rose from a vase in the middle of the table, twisting it around in his hands, “it’s his hair. I’m combining it with Snow’s hair to bottle True Love.”

“They’re True Love?”

Rumple nodded. “Their marks are on their thumbs. They’ve both shown me.”

Biting her lip, Belle fixed her gaze on the rose in his hand. “I would never show my mark to anyone.”

“What color is yours?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

She sat up straighter, meeting his eyes.“I’ve always believed that one should have power over their own fate. Letting some marking the size of my pinky finger dictate my decisions would go against that.”

“How have you gone so long without finding out the color? Weren’t you ever curious?”

“Of course I was curious. I’m still curious. But my marking is in a spot that is sort of...difficult for me to see. And I don’t let anyone who looks at it tell me what it is.” She shrugged. “What color is yours?”

Rumple paused. He slipped the rose back into the vase behind her, keeping his face close to hers. He was standing so close that her knees, hidden under her blue skirt, brushed against his thigh. “If I told you,” he whispered, “I’d have to kill you.”

She smirked. “Good luck finding a maid better than me.”

He snatched the cloak from the table, transporting himself back to the workroom. It would be easy to find a maid more skilled than her. She was never a good match for the job- born and raised a noble woman she never had to worry about cooking or cleaning. But having a highly skilled maid in her place would not feel the same. He didn’t just want a caretaker to keep him company- he wanted Belle. He placed the cloak on the table, running his hands through his hair. He was growing far too attached for his own good.

Months later found Belle once again seated on a table, swinging her legs under her.

He clasped his hands together. “And what about your betrothed?”

“It was an arranged marriage. Honestly, I never really cared much for Gaston.” She smirked. “I didn’t have to see his soulmate marking to know he wasn’t right for me. To me love is layered. Love is a mystery to be uncovered. I could never truly give my heart to someone as superficial as he.” Rumple nodded, enthralled by her words. All she wanted was to travel the world but instead he forced her to go from one terrible man to another. “But you were going to tell me about your son.” She reminded him.

“I’ll tell you what,” he forced the words out, “I’ll make you a deal. Go to town and fetch me some straw. When you return, I’ll share my tale.”

“But...town…” she shook her head. “You trust me to come back?”

“Oh no. I expect I’ll never see you again.”

And just like that, she was gone. He stood from his seat, trudging up the stairs to his workroom to maybe get something done. The castle felt too big all of a sudden. He’d have to get used to the solitude again. She’d taken a basket to put straw in but both of them knew she would never return.

Instead of working, though, he found himself at the window. His eyes trained themselves on the walkway, as if he actually expected to see her walk down it. The sun began to set, and he hoped she’d found a place to stay tonight.

But then he saw a figure on the path. He squinted his eyes. Could it really be her? She was getting closer with every second. He had to leave the window. He tore down the stairs, making it to his spinning wheel in the Great Hall just seconds before she arrived.

The doors opened, and in walked Belle. “Oh, you’re back already. Good. Good thing.” He paused. Did that sound too excited? “I’m nearly out of straw.”

“Hmm,” she placed the basket of straw in front of his spinning wheel. “C’mon. You’re happy that I’m back.”

His breathing quickened, and he wasn’t sure if it was from running down the stairs or from her proximity. He leaned forward. “I’m not unhappy.”

She smiled, coming around behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders. He couldn’t feel the warmth through his leather vest but he leaned into the touch. “And you promised me a story.”

“Did I?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, pulling golden thread from his fingers and placing it aside. She sat facing him on the bench. Her hand landed on his thigh. “Tell me about your son.”

Rumple hesitated for a moment, his mind buzzing too much from her hand placement to think, before he finally said, “I lost him. Nothing more to tell, really.”

Belle shook her head. “And since then you’ve loved no one, and no one has loved you?”

He closed the gap between them to study her face. “Why did you come back?”

“I wasn’t going to,” she smiled, her blue eyes studying his, ”then something…” she shook her head. “Don’t change the subject like that. Why did you lose your son?”

Rumple sighed. He was almost off the hook. “I am a coward.” He started. He had promised that he’d tell her, after all. “I have been my entire life. I tried to make up for it by collecting power, and the power became so important that I couldn’t let go. Not even when that meant losing the most important person in my life.”

Belle nodded. “Your son.”

“Baelfire,” he hadn’t spoken it out loud in so long, “is his name. After he left, I dedicated myself to finding him. Every deal I make brings me closer to him. And I’ll need to keep holding onto that power in order to find him.” His hands fidgeted but he forced himself to keep his eyes anchored in her blue ones. He’d never told that to anybody else before.

“So you have to stay the Dark One...for your son?”

“Yes.”

Belle nodded, her hand slipping from his leg. Her eyes slipped down to glance at his lips for a second but he probably imagined it. The corners of her lips turned downward. “I understand. Everything you’ve done has been for him.” Her eyes searched his face as if sizing him up. “Well, except dealing for me.”

“I’ve told you,” he insisted, “the place was filthy.”

“Sure,” she nodded, smirking. “We both know I haven’t done any cooking or cleaning since my first month here.”

“That’s because you’re terrible at it.” He shrugged, running his hands along the wooden surface of his spinning wheel.

She chuckled, standing up from the bench. “Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin.” She left the room and climbed the stairs, once again at home in the castle. Maybe one day he would find out why she came back, but for now it would remain a mystery.

***

Rumple transported himself from outside Maleficent’s castle back to the Great Hall.

Sitting in his chair at the end of the table, Belle fumbled for a piece of his straw-turned-gold to use as a bookmark. “Did he wake up Snow White?” She asked, sliding out of the throne and making her way to his spinning wheel.

He sat on the bench in front of his spinning wheel, waiting for her to join him. “I don’t know if it’s happened yet but-” at just that moment a surge of energy rushed through the room. Light magic rolled through the Dark Castle like a wave.The curse was broken. “Snow White is awake.”

Belle lowered herself next to him. “How long until Regina will cast the Dark Curse?”

“We still have another year, at least.” She nodded, her eyes roaming over his face like this would be the last time she would see him.

“I can’t imagine a world where I don’t even know you.” She said.

Rumple shifted. “I could make some arrangements with the Queen. Make sure the curse keeps us together.”

Belle turned her body to face him. She leaned into him. “Our deal was forever, after all,” she whispered.

He licked his lips, suddenly aware of their proximity. He could smell the strawberries she’d eaten earlier in her breath that ghosted over his face.

“Why did you stay?” He asked, realizing his voice also dropped down to a whisper.

“What?”

“When I let you go,” he clarified, “you came back and then you stayed.”

“Because if I left,” she closed the gap between them, “I’d miss you too much.” Light as a feather, she touched her lips to his. Her hands wandered up into his hair.  

“What’s happening?” He pulled back as he felt his power draining from him. Willing it to stay tethered to him, he fixed his eyes on Belle.

“I think…” A small smile played at her lips. “I think I almost broke your curse.”

“Well that’s impossible,” Rumple scoffed, rubbing at his neck. “Unless…” He swallowed his words. Coward that he was, he couldn’t bring himself to talk of True Love with Belle. The last two times he’d hoped for it, he messed it up.

“Unless what?” Belle asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

Well now he had to explain it. The words seemed blocked, though. How could he bring this up when he knew rejection was just around the corner? He remembered Belle’s words all those weeks ago- do the brave thing and bravery would follow. He could do this. Rumple had always been brave.

“Your soulmate marking,” he finally said. “Where is it?”

Belle’s lips parted. She pulled her hair to her right side, slowly turning to reveal a brown streak the exact shade of his hair...on the back of her neck. He gasped.

“What?” She spun around, eyeing him uncertainly.

He had no idea how to say it. He shrugged, the corners of his lips turning upward. “It would appear we’re True Love.”

Belle shot up from her seat and walked behind him, her hands finding the collar of his vest. “May I?” He nodded, staying still as Belle pulled it down to look at the marking. Her fingers brushed over it for a moment before she returned to her spot on the bench and faced him. He expected to see a look of horror on her face at being tethered to him but instead she beamed up at him.

She bit her lip. “I don’t want you to lose your powers,” she started, “but I do wish I could kiss you again.”

He settled for wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to him. He buried his hand in her hair, his fingers resting on her neck where the streak of his hair color rested. “I could arrange for that,” he smiled.

 


End file.
